Birds of a Feather
by nerdy uke
Summary: The mischievous Jason Todd Robin II arranges a meeting with Nightwing. WARNING: Explicit sexual themes. Not pornographic, but definitely FOR ADULTS ONLY.


Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Nightwing, or any other D.C. Comics title, nor any of the characters from them. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

**Jason Todd (Robin)**

I guess you could say we got off on the wrong foot.

It would be more true to say that I'm a snotty little brat, and he's an insecure man just coming into his own and covers it up with arrogance. But the _nice_ thing to say would be that we got off on the wrong foot.

I'm not used to saying the nice thing. Batman found me on the street, and that's a world where being nice doesn't get you very far. You just do what you have to do to survive. Because no matter how bad this life gets, we're hard-wired to want to keep living it. It's nature's cruel joke.

What? You're not _surprised_, are you? So what if I've never taken philosophy class? That's all just a bunch of hot air, anyway. Spend a few weeks – days, even – not knowing where you're going to sleep or where your next meal is coming from, and you'll learn a hell of a lot more about life than they can teach you in your fancy classrooms.

Anyway. Like I said, you do what you need to do to survive. And maybe, occasionally, to have enough fun to make it all worthwhile.

That's why Batman found me trying to steal the hub-caps off the Batmobile– _What_? You'd _better_ not be judging me! Weren't you listening? We do _whatever we have to to survive_. It's not that hard to grasp, is it?

Sometimes there wasn't anything to steal. When that happened, you had a choice. You could starve, or you could sell what you already had. I'm not proud of it, but I'm not ashamed of it. Are you catching on yet? Survival? Whatever it takes? Any of this sinking in?

So when Batman found me, he tried to make me tell him I'm sorry. Well, I wasn't! He didn't scare me! Nothing scares me anymore. Things just _are_. They aren't going to change one way or another just because little Jason Todd is scared.

Yeah, that's right. I'm Jason. I am not, I am not, I am _definitely not_ Dick Grayson. God, that dweeb! Where the hell did Batman find him? It definitely wasn't trying to steal anything off of his car, I can tell you that much. I can't believe I still feel like I have to live up to that bastard.

Well. Here's my chance. Oh, did I forget to mention? I invited him out to play. That uptight do-gooder will never know what hit him.

xxx

**Dick Grayson (Nightwing)**

It was hate at first sight.

I don't know what bothers me about him, what really bothers me about him. It isn't that I think he'll be a bad Robin. He doesn't have the discipline I had, and I do think Bruce probably recruited the boy about a step and a half ahead of the Joker, but that isn't necessarily a bad thing. Maybe he needs a partner that knows how it works on the street.

But does he _really_ have to be such a little punk?

"Where is he?" I ask, trying – and failing – not to sound preemptively annoyed.

As usual, the kid's mouth doesn't disappoint. "He's not here. But if you need someone to hold your hand—"

"Shut _up_." I roll my eyes, not bothering to disguise the irritation this time.

The kid's eyes rake over me, and I inexplicably feel self-conscious. "What?"

"I'm just wondering…" the kid answers with a sly shrug. "If you _hate_ him so much—"

"I don't hate him," I answer defensively.

The kid shrugs again, unimpressed. "Whatever. You don't want anything to do with him, but you come running any time he calls… or you think he calls." He adds the last bit with a smirk.

Well. That made this even more thoroughly a waste of my time. I reach for my grappling gun and aim it at the nearest building higher than this rooftop.

"Wait!" Robin – it still seems strange to separate that identity from myself – protests.

I sigh, turning back to him. "What do you want, kid?"

His expression changes radically at that question. He actually looks almost vulnerable. _What the—?_

"Can we maybe… go somewhere to talk?" he asks, his eyes downcast.

I hesitate. He's lonely. I can relate to that. But that's not it; I know that expression. I thought Bruce would wait a little longer before putting the weight of the world on the kid's shoulders. Before his expectations became unbearable.

_Why? Were they ever not with you?_ I sigh.

He looks at me imploringly, and I suddenly feel uncomfortable for reasons I can't entirely explain. I nod reluctantly, and together we go off into the night.

xxx

**Jason Todd (Robin)**

_God. This is too easy._

I'm not sure what makes me want this, but the fact that I want it is enough to make me do it. Impulse control has never been my strong point.

We're still in costume, because we didn't enter through the Bat Cave. Besides, Nightwing would be in costume anyway; he didn't live here anymore. And I wasn't about to give him any advantage.

We're seated on my bed. Not necessarily terribly provocative, except for the fact that I made sure ahead of time that the embarrassingly comfortable bed was the only piece of furniture in the room available for use. It will make things easier.

Nightwing looks immediately uncomfortable when I scoot close to him. "What are you doing?" he asks, his voice faltering slightly as he backs away.

And in an instant I'm on top of him. My shins are on either side of his torso, my hands on his shoulders, and my face mere inches from him. "_This_," I answer throatily as I lean towards him.

Nightwing tries to squirm away without pushing me – impossible, since he is too close to the wall – and protests, "Stop this." I notice with some satisfaction that he doesn't try that hard to struggle.

"No," I answer smugly. "You want this. You want me."

Too much? He shoves me off of him with a surprising amount of force, and I land on my back. _Damn. Almost had him._

"We're going to forget that just happened." Nightwing rises to stand, but I quickly grab him by the wrist and pull him on top of me.

He growls, he actually _growls_ in frustration as he tries to pull away – again, with not nearly enough effort. "You little _bitch_—"

I grin impishly at him. "That's the idea." I slowly raise my right leg to emphasize my vulnerable position, careful to rub it sensuously against his side.

I see in his eyes that the struggle between desire and restraint has been won – or lost, depending on your perspective. I briefly wonder if the easy conquest should disappoint me, but as I roughly pull him down and kiss him hard, and see his eyes widen slightly in surprise, I decide this should be amusing no matter how quickly I managed to seduce him.

xxx

**Dick Grayson (Nightwing)**

At first I'm too surprised by the force of the kiss to pull away. By the time that passes, his hands are wandering all over my body, driving me mad. And I don't want to pull away.

Then his body starts rubbing against mine, and my eyes almost roll into the back of my head with pleasure.

Somehow, impossibly, I manage the self-control to pull myself free. "No!" I manage breathlessly. But I'm still on top of him, my forearms on either side of his face, and I can't bring myself to get up.

To ensure that arrangement's continuation, he winds his legs around my waist. "_Yes_," he contradicts forcefully, his eyes burning at me.

"This isn't right," I insist.

"It must _feel_ right," he answers smugly, nodding towards my erection.

I just stare at him, trying to control my desire. He's so wanton, it usually annoys the hell out of me, but for some reason it's really turning me on. I can't help myself…

"You're just a kid," I argue.

"You don't really think that," he answers bluntly. "You know I've never been 'just a kid.'"

"I… I'm in love," I continue to protest, though my already weak resolve is continuing to falter. "With someone else."

He actually rolls his eyes. "Oh please. Barbara? You're worried over Barbara? Has she even _looked_ at you since you got back?"

I start to get angry, but that won't help. It doesn't make me want to take him any less, it just makes me want to make it hurt.

I didn't get the impression that would bother him much.

I had only one last defense. "I've never done this before."

xxx

**Jason Todd (Robin)**

This was it. He was mine.

"I never have, either," I admitted, carefully schooling my features into a heightened state of innocence. "Not_really_, anyway. The things I've done with men before… it was never my choice, it was never about what I wanted."

His eyes immediately become soft. Yeah. Definitely have him now. Classic hero complex. I just have to make sure he doesn't get _too_ soft.

He's gentle at first, but I know all the right buttons to push to get what I really want. I drive him mad with un-gentle caresses. After a few seconds of desperate kissing, petting, and writhing against each other, he's literally ripping my clothes off.

Oh. _That_ won't be easy to explain, but I'm not really worried about it right now. I distractedly un-hook his utility belt, most of my attention still focused on the way his hands and lips make me feel like I'm on fire.

He seems to lose focus for a moment – or maybe his reluctance is resurfacing – so I bite his lip to remind him I'm still here. His eyes narrow in anger, but his anger works for me. It makes him more inclined to do it the way I want him to in the first place.

His hands start running through my hair – hard at first, but becoming increasingly gentle. I don't want gentle right now. I slip my hands under his, and raise them above my head, placing me in an even more classically vulnerable position. I can hear my pulse pounding in my ears as I become more excited.

Somehow in the tangle of limbs, his clothes end up on the floor, and mine end up nearly ripped to shreds. He breaks away from the kiss, rising above me, my legs on his shoulders.

I let my back hit the mattress, and pull my legs closer to my chest in anticipation.

"Jason…" he whispers. His voice suggests a torrent of emotions, and it takes effort on my part not to roll my eyes.

"Just shut up and do it already," I demand hoarsely.

_What_? Oh _come on_! I'm not nice under the _best_ of circumstances. You expect me to suddenly become a sweet-lipped angel when I'm horny as hell?

Things get fuzzy at this point. The last traces of reluctance or whatever was holding the overgrown boy scout back finally collapse under the weight of his desire – his desire for _me_, I will later reflect smugly.

And this is when I'm finally no longer in control. I'm right where I want to be, and he's doing exactly what I want him to do, but _he's_ in control now. And that's what I want.

All too soon, it's over. He collapses from exhaustion next to me. We don't hold each other, but we're close enough that our bodies touch in some places, and we feel each other's body heat wherever we don't touch.

I let my eyes close, a feeling of complacent pleasure washing over me.

After a few moments of uninterrupted silence, Nightwing starts to stir next to me. I glance over to find him still on his hands and knees, his expression vaguely confused.

"You realize you're mine now, right?" I point out flippantly.

His eyes widen. "What?"

I smile greedily. "What you just did to me… I don't think Bruce would approve."

His expression darkens. "_You_—" But there's no potency behind his words. He knows he's beaten.

"It's okay," I assure him. "All you have to do is whatever I want… whenever I want."

And we both know he will.


End file.
